


Reset, Continue, Quit

by Chisotahn



Category: Persona 4
Genre: M/M, Persona Magica, Suffering, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 19:03:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9085825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chisotahn/pseuds/Chisotahn
Summary: A gift fic for linefaced and impureimpulse, written in December 2014 and now archived here. Timeloops, suffering, spoilers for everything. Also pining.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [warewananji](https://archiveofourown.org/users/warewananji/gifts), [impureimpulse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/impureimpulse/gifts).



You know how this works by now.

You’re not sure how many times you’ve done this, either; it all blurs together in your memory, moments overlapping on near-identical moments until you can’t tell which was the original. One thing is clear, though, from every iteration: once you let him inside the TV, it’s over.

Not immediately, usually. (It was, once. That gives you nightmares, makes you tense up every time he screams _you’re not me!_.) But eventually. The story stutters to a stop, and you restart it the same way you always have. Back to zero, back to cherry blossoms and Nanako hiding from you, shy and uncertain.

You wonder sometimes how old she’d be now if you’d just let time take its course. How old _you’d_ be.

It doesn’t matter.

Once you let him inside the TV, it’s over. So every month, week, day, hour, minute, second spent past that moment is a waste, technically. It means you’ve missed your chance, that everything is going to wind towards its now-inevitable conclusion, one way or another. You used to be ruthless, reaching back and restarting as soon as it happened. Sometimes you never even hit the ground inside the TV, you were that fast.

But this time… there was nothing special about this time. Only that you were tired, that you did your best to be present as your friends ( _not your friends, not yet_ ) acted out the same scenes you’d seen so many times. There are changes of course, minute ones. Sometimes Chie kicks him in the knee, for example. Sometimes the disc actually doesn’t break. But all of those things are incidental.

But you didn’t reset. You let yourselves land, let the lifeline snap and let Teddie lead you. You let Izanagi re-awaken for the hundredth, thousandth time, even as the ones already inside your head mutter in derision. You make it past _you’re not me!_ ; you take his hand and help him up. You carefully avoid pulling him into your arms, because that happened once too and he didn’t react well.

You go back to your room, and you sleep.

And you stay.

The cherry blossoms fade away; you don’t study for your midterms, but you ace them anyway, because you could answer the questions in your sleep by now. You practice with Chie, taste Yukiko’s cooking, rescue Kanji and Rise. You feign surprise when Teddie opens up to reveal a boy inside.

You hold him on the riverbank, trying not to tremble; you listen to _you’re special to me, you know?_ and you don’t dodge his punches later on, because that part always feels good, bringing that bond to its completion, at least as far as the Velvet Room is concerned. Which is nothing, as far as _you’re_ concerned, but it still feels wonderful.

You should go back. Reset. But you don’t.

You tell him in November, which never gets easier; usually you reset long before then, so the longer you stay each time the less prepared you are. Rescuing Nanako still hurts. The empty house still hurts.

The warm astonishment in his eyes doesn’t hurt, or the way he leans desperately into your fingertips when you reach out to touch his cheek, guide him to that first (hundredth, thousandth) kiss. It’s cheating, really; you know all his tells, all the places he likes to touch and be touched. _It’s weird, isn’t it, partner, means we must’ve been made for each other all along, haha._

(If only he knew.

You must never tell him.)

Nothing you can do, short of losing everything you’ve gained, can stop December from happening. There was a time once, before Inaba, when you liked Christmas lights. Now they fill you with dread, because you’ve made it this far and there’s so little time left like this, with him, with this iteration of him. You’ve fallen in love with a hundred different Yosuke Hanamuras, and maybe this time you should just give up. Let this be the last. His kisses feel so good. It wouldn’t be a bad note to go out on.

But you can’t. You’ve always been _hope_ , that’s what _she_ said - and hope doesn’t give up. It keeps going, and going, and going.

So when he collapses before you and you drag yourself towards him, stomach churning as the yellow flickers in his eyes, as he reaches for you and begs you for that ending, you lean down. You kiss him, tasting salt and blood, and before you release him you call Izanagi, multiplied a hundred times over.

The lightning never hurts you, but it’s always been his weakness.

Before the thunder’s echo fades, you’re gone.

You breathe in. It smells like cherry blossoms.

Someone else’s hand is in your own, and you look up to see red eyes, gray hair, soft smile edged with knowledge and amusement. When she releases your hand, you feel dizzy, and Nanako’s voice raises in concern.

You’re fine.

Fine.


End file.
